


The Fault In Our Stars

by thesevioletdelights



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Armitage Hux is Not Nice, Denial of Feelings, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubious Consent, Exes, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, M/M, Manipulation, Possessive Behavior, Power Imbalance, Power Play, Public Humiliation, Public Sex, Rimming, Spanking, TROS canonverse, they are both stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:54:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23085103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesevioletdelights/pseuds/thesevioletdelights
Summary: "He knows he won't be able to walk away now, can't, not when strong fingers are closing around his wrist to draw him closer, too close, until he is almost pressed up against that wide chest. He should protest, pull away, but that would be futile too, because this is Ren, and he is touching Hux, in front of the entire Supreme Council, without hesitation."
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren
Comments: 43
Kudos: 205





	The Fault In Our Stars

**Author's Note:**

> This is the TROS canon-compliant fic I had to get out of my system. Please read the warnings at the end!
> 
> As always, thanks go out to my lovely beta @callmelyss <3.

General Quinn's body lands on the boardroom table with a sickening _thud_. 

He's dead, is the very first thought that jumps into Hux's mind, a sudden mixture of elation and schadenfreude bursting through him at the same moment. He digs his nails into his palms to fight back the smirk threatening to spread across his lips. _Good riddance. Good riddance to all of them_.

There is a moment of absolute silence while everyone around the table tries to figure out what will happen next. They won’t be shedding any tears for Quinn, that's for certain. You can almost hear it, Hux thinks, the sound of the gears turning in their ugly minds.

No one moves. A few heads turn to look in his direction. _Well_. It appears that the task to clean up after Kylo Ren once again befalls Hux. As it always does, even after all these years. He is about to stand and call for the guards to dispose of the body, when Quinn stirs, coming back to consciousness with a sudden jerk. He lets out a pained moan and curls into himself, trying to turn onto his side.

"Take a seat, General Quinn." Ren still hasn't moved from the head of the table. He is leaning on it with both hands, watching Quinn's awkward struggle. Motionless, like a coiled viper ready to strike. Only the slight twitch of his hand betrays his annoyance: long fingers drumming impatiently on the flat surface.

Quinn scrambles from the table, stumbles onto the floor when his legs give out under him. Hux bites back a laugh. A few more moments of uncomfortable silence pass as Quinn crawls back to his chair, hoists himself into it with considerable effort, and finally slumps down with a broken groan.

Ren's attention immediately turns from Quinn, shutting him out like the man never even existed. The helmet cocks to the side as the eyes hidden behind it sweep the room, zoning in on the next target with deadly precision.

“General Hux.”

 _Fuck_. 

“Come here.” 

Hux's stomach drops. For a moment, he is too stunned to move. Ren was right - his appearance had startled him. It’s not just the fear of him _finding out_ , although that is very much present, every moment when Ren is not near and every moment when he is. It's on Hux's mind when he is delivering his official mission reports and when he is lying in Ren’s bed, trembling with the aftershocks of orgasm. 

He lied about the mask, too. When he saw Ren enter the room, it was as if someone had opened a window to the past, and a cold gale of memories swept in through it, knocking Hux straight in the chest. In his mind, he saw Ren's face under the helmet, the face of the young Jedi killer Snoke had brought onto his ship all those years ago, the image crystal clear. The stormy eyes. The striking features that still held the softness of youth. The defiant line of his mouth, lips still unkissed. It was a different time. He didn’t think Ren had been longing for it. 

Hux exhales a breath. His heart appears to be beating more steadily, now that the initial shock has faded. Maybe it’s safe to stand, push his chair back, and make his way over to the head of the table.

The room is so quiet he could hear a pin drop. A nervous energy vibrates in the air, crackling over Hux's skin, making the back of his neck prickle. Only his footsteps echo off the walls: _clack, clack, clack_ , the sound of his bootheels on the shiny floor.

The other side of the table seems impossibly far away, with every eye now following him, boring into his back. After what seems like an eternity, he finally comes to stand in front of Ren, looking straight into the blackness of the helmet's visor. The silver inlay stares back at him, an emotionless visage of cold chrome.

“I can tell when you’re lying, General,” says the modulated voice. “When I ask a question, you have to answer me more truthfully.” 

_Stars, all this kriffing charade_. This can't be simply about the stupid mask. Not even Ren is that insecure. _But he is_ , whispers a little voice in the back of his head, _when it comes to you_. And if Ren _did_ look... Dread tightens his windpipe. He can almost feel the phantom fingers, closing around his throat, cutting off his air. Blood is drumming in his ears, everything now a fraction removed from him, distorted, dulled, and _fuck, fuck, fuck_ , it's over—

Ren is still staring at him. Waiting. His posture radiates impatience, but not ire. Nor threat. 

Had he truly pried into Hux's mind, he would already know, he would have seen—

 _No_. This is just Ren being Ren, jittery with excess adrenaline and in need of attention. If nothing else, Hux can handle _that_. 

"I'm sorry, sir," he offers, hoping he doesn't sound too wretched. Or bitter. "Maybe I haven't been completely honest." Ren cocks his head to the side in a silent “ _oh?_ ” of inquiry, so he presses on, somewhat heartened. "Your face is the face of the First Order. You shouldn't be hiding it." He feels calmer now, having said it. Nowadays, making any sort of suggestion as to what Ren should or should not do could prove unwise, but Hux might just get away with it. He is the only one who still can.

His spine tingles with apprehension, but there is something else too, a little thrill creeping upward along his back, making him shiver. Ren is standing very close. He smells of leather and ozone and something that must be loaded with kriffing pheromones, because _fuck_ , his scent is making Hux dizzy, the reaction to Ren's proximity immediate and visceral. The heat radiating from his body is magnetic, pulling Hux in. It's been a week since they last saw each other. 

He knows he won't be able to walk away now, _can't_ , not when strong fingers are closing around his wrist to draw him closer, _too close_ , until he is almost pressed up against that wide chest. He should protest, pull away, but that would be futile too, because this is _Ren_ , and he is _touching_ Hux, in front of the entire Supreme Council, without hesitation.

Ren releases his grip on his wrist and Hux’s hand falls away, limp. His body feels like it belongs to someone else, his limbs heavy as lead as he is turned around in the circle of Ren's arms to face the rest of the table. Pale faces stare back at him, a few quizzical eyebrows, some confused glances. 

A hiss of air and a rustle behind him tells him Ren has taken off the mask. His gloves too, by the looks of it. Hux can see his bare hands from the corner of his eye, setting the helmet aside, out of the way. 

"I appreciate your candor, General," Ren rumbles, and the cadence of his deep voice, now undistorted by the vocoder, vibrates through Hux's very core. "But I still have to teach you a lesson."

And there it is again, that sinking feeling. The one that washes over him every time he is certain his cover is blown and Ren has finally figured out everything. He has wondered how it will happen, of course. Getting thrown against the wall, perhaps, this time with a ferocity there is no recovering from, or having his neck snapped, plain and simple. He hopes it won’t be too demeaning. Kriff, if he’s lucky, it will be over in the blink of an eye—

Strong arms wrap themselves around his middle. In one swift movement, Ren pulls him hard against his body, and buries his nose in Hux’s neck. 

Breathes in deep.

Distantly, Hux’s brain registers the shocked murmur that runs through the group around the table, the voices distorted as if his head was suddenly pushed underwater. A few officers lean forward in disbelief, or maybe to get a better look. Pryde's aide is whispering something to him in quick, hushed tones. Hux can't make out the words. There is a roar in his ears, the back of his throat burning with bitter bile. His world has narrowed to the flutter of his pulse, the involuntary spike of heat curling in his stomach. 

“You’re trembling,” Ren says, quietly, so only Hux can hear. His lips are warm against the shell of Hux's ear. Soft. "I wonder why that is."

 _I hate you_ , Hux wants to scream. _I hate you, and these appalling public displays of power, and how you’ve been in love with your own superiority lately_. Ren is no better than him, never was. The circumstances just happened to work out in his favor. He might fancy himself a genius leader who can allow himself to cast his best military advisor aside, but he is none. 

It hasn’t always been like this.

A year ago, Snoke was gone and Hux knew - had known since the moment he found Ren unconscious on the floor of the Supremacy’s throne room - that Ren had killed him. It was a cunning move that even he had to begrudgingly respect. Ren held all the power in the palm of his hand; he was luminous in the dark, like a supernova: beautiful and deadly. Lonely. They both were. Always had been.

It's almost embarrassing, how little it took. A moment of weakness in the volatile weeks after Crait. Skywalker dead, the girl gone, and Ren’s plans shattered. Ren’s warm hands cupping his face, his eyes wet, his voice fraught with tenderness and despair. _I need you, Armitage_. He kissed Hux’s cheek, his nose, his lips. The blue shadows under his eyes. Later, as he undressed him, the bruises on his ribcage, as if hoping to heal them with his mouth. _I need you. I’m sorry_. 

Ren always had been easy to read; his desires so laughably transparent that placating him with sex was going to be easy work, a small price to pay for all the glory and power that would soon be within arm’s reach. 

Or so Hux had thought.

Then they were in bed and Ren's naked body was flush against him, his broad chest pressed against Hux's back, breath hot in his ear; and Hux realized that there were things he had yet to learn. He learnt that Ren had a big, beautiful cock that somehow fit perfectly inside him despite its intimidating size, every thrust riding that fine line between pain and overwhelming pleasure, stimulating nerve endings in Hux's body he didn’t even know existed, wringing helpless sounds from his throat, _please, yes, more_. He learnt that Ren liked to bite and lick while they fucked, and that he very much liked that too. He reached back to grab onto his hair in an involuntary moment of passion, turning his face toward his, and Ren curled himself around him, held him close and kissed him hungrily, quickening his pace. He had never experienced pleasure like this before, never with such devastating... _intensity_. It was a sweet, torturous ache that throbbed along the length of his cock, pulsed in his very core, relentless, like Ren's hard thrusts. Then, in a single moment, it was cresting, overflowing, and before he knew it, there was fluid streaking across his belly, and Ren was whispering against his mouth in hushed astonishment: _oh fuck, oh stars, Hux_. 

That night, filled with post-orgasmic lassitude and feeling uncharacteristically lenient, he had slept in someone's bed for the first time. Woke in the middle of the cycle, too, unaccustomed to the excess heat, the presence of another body next to his. Just as he was about to quietly slip away, Ren shifted in his sleep and burrowed closer, wrapping himself around Hux as if on instinct. Hux found himself trapped in place, a big nose pressed into the crook of his neck and silky dark hair tickling his jaw. 

There came a soft, purring sound. Ren was snoring. 

He had seen Ren fight and bleed, experienced his temper and passion, yet somehow, this simple noise was the most human thing about him, terrifying in its intimacy. It filled Hux's heart with an inexplicable ache. Careful, hesitant, he slid his arms around that broad back and embraced Ren in return, laying his chin on the top of his head. Even being surrounded by all that warmth, he felt exposed. More vulnerable than he had felt in a long time. It brought back a faint recollection of being held by another person, someone he rarely allowed himself to think about. Not since he had, in a moment of weakness, cried for her when he was eleven years old and Brendol made sure he never cried for her again. Ren's embrace had evoked the same strange amalgam of feelings her memory always did - hurt, confusion, a sense of belonging - an emotion he both detested and longed to experience again and again. But he was certain about one thing: he would never allow it to consume him. 

Ren snuggled into his chest, and in that moment, Hux knew that he had his full attention. Now all he had to do was gain his trust.

Those first few months, they couldn't keep their hands off of each other. 

Then came the whispers from Beyond. 

The visions in the Force.

The doubt.

Hux had come to learn many things about Ren throughout the years spent by his side and the months spent in his bed. That Ren was obsessive, needy and hungry for praise, but also determined and fierce, and a competent leader when he put his mind to it. That his ears blushed easily and that he liked to sleep on his back; that he always drank his caf sweet, and had insecurities that Hux found both absurd and familiar. Could certainly sympathize with, even if he never would have admitted it out loud.

This man, he thinks, as Ren’s hand presses between his shoulder blades to lean him forward until he is braced on his forearms on the boardroom table, this man, with the distant, manic eyes and the bouts of paranoia, he doesn’t know at all. 

Ren used to be so easy to spar with, always quick to play Hux's games, both of them addicted to that push and pull, the battle for dominance. Hux misses it. The thrill of being challenged. Ren used to be loud in his head, teasing him, goading him, whispering filth inside his mind and in his ear when they fucked - _Do you like it, Hux? My mouth, my fingers, my cock? Tell me, tell me, tell me_ \- laughing softly and kissing him as Hux cursed back at him and called him every expletive under twin suns.

Now, there is only silence.

For Hux, all that remains is a resentful longing for the time when he had the Order to himself. When there was only Snoke to please and Ren, with his arrogant ways and ridiculous body was nothing more than a nuisance and a fantasy in his head.

He wants Ren to pay, and pay _dearly_ : for wasting Hux's time, for wasting his _talents_ and mettle. For reducing the only person who prevented him from going off the rails to a mere sycophant, like these bootlickers around the table here. For allowing himself to be shackled by another prophecy. Another master. 

Another tyrant. 

_I could have given you everything. Everything, if only you had let me, you foolish, obnoxious child._

_But I won’t anymore._

Ren should have killed him a long time ago. Kriff, Hux should have poisoned him first. Could have. Should have. It's all wishful thinking. Loathsome as it is, they have fallen into a rhythm now. Ren disappears for days and weeks, chasing ghosts as he does, and Hux stays behind, occupying his time with the R&D unit, or tinkering with tech, while pretending he still has something worthwhile to contribute to the fierce machine. No more planetside missions for just the two of them, no more sleepless cycles spent on the bridge commanding a battle. Ren rather have him naked in his quarters, waiting and ready. Hux is not allowed to contradict him in public, not anymore, but in the secrecy of his rooms he will still give him lip, criticize every strategic choice he’s made during his mission, until Ren is pulling at his robe and panting into his ear: _How dare you, General. How dare you_. This is familiar, at least, the way they tear at each other, Hux yanking on a fistful of Ren's hair as Ren bites down onto his neck, hard enough to bruise.

Desire flares up then, as it always does, even after all this time, and Hux hates it, hates how he is still so pathetically weak for the feel of Ren's body against his own, how he craves that raw, untamed power that emanates from him. How he submits so readily when Ren pushes him onto the bed and forces his face into the mattress, holding him down by the back of his neck as he plows his thick length into him, leaning over him to whisper in his ear - _Did you miss your Supreme Leader’s cock? Then let me see you fucking take it_ —- and fucks him so hard, so good that Hux can't think, can’t move, can't to do anything but clutch at the sheets and sob in ecstasy: _yes, sir, yes, yes, yes_. 

Sometimes, afterwards, when he is lying sprawled on his stomach, his breath coming in staccato gasps and his hole still sloppy with Ren's come, he thinks of that kiss, burning against his lips. Of Ren's pleading eyes, the way his voice broke over his name for the first time. _Armitage._

Sentimental nonsense.

Hux is patient. He's a survivor. He has survived his father, his enemies, his former Supreme Leader, and he will survive Kylo Ren.

As long as he has some use for Hux, even if it’s just to satisfy his base urges, he is safe. As long as Ren is still obsessed with his arse, Hux has at least some semblance of control over his own life.

Although right now, he is inclined to believe otherwise. 

Large hands slide under his stomach to undo his belt, then work the fly of his trousers open with practiced ease. "And now for your punishment, General.”

 _This is not happening_ , Hux's brain tells him, _it’s not, it’s not_ , but his belly still feels warm; treacherous heat coiling around his insides. Ren has never touched him in public before, although many already suspect the nature of their relationship. Mostly because Hux is still here, when by all means he - or what's left of him - should be floating in dark space. Ren has kept him close, and now he is staking his claim on him. In front of everyone. _You belong to him now_ , Hux's brain supplies. The thought is appalling. It still makes his cock twitch between his legs. 

His breath catches in his throat as Ren’s fingers hook into the waistband of his jodhpurs. In one swift motion, he pulls both his trousers and underwear down, exposing his arse to the cool air of the boardroom. 

Somewhere on his right, Engell lets out a quiet gasp. Everyone else is staring at the table or straight ahead, careful not to make eye contact with Hux or Ren, and especially not with each other.

Except for Pryde.

He is staring right at Hux, his usual dour expression replaced by a look of manic glee. Evidently he's been entertaining thoughts of Hux getting his comeuppance in a way very much like this: depraved, filthy, and utterly humiliating. 

A big hand rucks Hux’s jacket higher, along with his undershirt, until his entire lower back is bare, and Ren smoothes his palm over the curve of his arse in an appreciative caress.

“I want you to count for me, General,” the deep voice says. There is a soft rustle as Ren moves beside him, letting his other hand rest on his back, between his shoulder blades. “To ten.”

Hux drops his head between his arms and closes his eyes, shutting out the image of Pryde's lips twisting into a sickening smile. 

A heavy hand spanks him on the arse, hard enough to rock him forward and against the table. It almost punches a shout out of his throat, and only the immense hatred that fills him at the thought of Pryde and the others hearing his distress keeps him from crying out. Heat blossoms on his skin, sudden, intense, his buttock tingling all over where the flat of Ren’s broad palm connected with it.

Everything seems to stand still for a terrible moment. Then he realizes: Ren is waiting.

"O— one," he stammers, feeling a deep flush spread over his neck and face at the sound of his own voice. Everyone can hear him. _See him_ , obeying Ren without question, taking his punishment like a well-trained pet. 

An identical blow lands on his other cheek, the crack of Ren's hand against his bottom mortifyingly loud in the silence of the boardroom. Hux sucks in a lungful of air, exhaling it in a soft whimper he hopes isn't entirely audible. Above him, Ren growls, low in his throat, and Hux chokes out: "Two." 

Fuck, but Ren is so strong, his hand huge like a paddle; just thinking about the sheer size of it is enough to make him dread the next blow. He knows it’s coming, but the burst of sensation still catches him off guard when Ren delivers another merciless slap on his already tender buttock. "Three—“

Ren immediately spanks him again, with a quick, hard smack that drives a strangled gasp from Hux’s throat. This one was meant to sting. The two globes of his arse are now blazing with an equal heat, the skin now undoubtedly pink all over, and Hux's face burns at the thought of the sight he must present. Ren knows he bruises easily. He is no doubt admiring his handiwork now. Hux breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth; somehow he manages to count off 'four' without it sounding like a desperate moan.

Otherwise, the room is deadly silent, Hux’s panting breaths and an occasional pained wheeze from Quinn the only sound. There will be no laughter or jeers; that, at least, he can be sure of. They wouldn’t dare, not in front of Ren. Eyes tightly shut, Hux lets himself sink into the darkness behind his lids. He can take this. He has suffered worse before. The others might have to witness his humiliation, but he doesn’t need to look at them. Doesn’t even have to acknowledge them. 

It’s easier now, like this. The outside world fades away until there is nothing left but the sound of his own breathing and the achingly intense sensations: Ren’s presence behind him, the feel of his broad hand on Hux's arse as he pats it lightly. The cold air against his naked thighs. The tingling in his buttocks. 

The steady throb of his cock between his legs.

And that is substantially harder to ignore, he finds, even more than the spectators. His erection is pressing up against his quivering belly, in increasing need of attention. He squirms, trying to alleviate his discomfort, but the movement only makes his cock chafe painfully against the plasteel of the table.

"Keep your legs together," Ren says, in that infuriating tone that makes Hux want to drive a blade right into his jugular. And twist it too, for good measure. 

Large hands seize his own, pulling them away from where they are clenched tight on top of the table. Gathering his wrists in one giant paw, Ren places them in the small of his back and pushes Hux flat onto the table. With his head now lower than his hips, his burning bottom is on full display, and so is his blatant arousal. Ren could easily touch his cock, stroke it with his big, calloused hand, in plain sight of everyone. The thought alone is pure depravity. It shouldn’t make him shudder like this, shouldn’t send these waves of lust rolling through him, but it does. 

He feels long fingers move between his legs, and his hips buck helplessly when a big thumb starts to rub over his taint in slow circles. He can’t even cry out, can only gasp for air as Ren holds him firmly down with one hand and kneads the sensitive patch of skin with the other, applying a steady pressure to his perineum that makes Hux’s eyes roll back in his head. It's so good that he almost forgets himself, where he is and who is watching. If they were alone, he would probably be begging by now, rolling his hips and urging Ren on: _Please, sir_ — And Ren would chuckle softly - _Please what?_ \- but slide a finger inside him nevertheless, curl it in the way he knows Hux likes it... The prospect of it has him practically panting. Maybe Ren has changed his mind, maybe he has decided that this was enough punishment for today— A grateful moan escapes his throat, but Ren is already drawing his hand back, only to bring it down again with full force, this time on the center of his arse, and the blow jolts right up through Hux's balls.

“Fuck.” His mouth feels like sandpaper. Tears well up under his closed lids, hot, treasonous. “ _Fuck_.”

“General,” Ren says, in an unmistakable tone of warning. 

“Five,” Hux spits. _Fuck you, Ren. Fuck you all the way to Huttspace_.

Ren’s heavy hand immediately cracks down again, _same kriffing spot_. Hux’s buttocks clench against the blow, his balls drawing up, painfully tight, as another burst of stinging heat radiates across his arse, and a trembling whine rises from the back of his throat. Loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. He wants to moan and cry and plead, for Ren to stop, or to continue, to spank him until Hux starts sobbing, he doesn't know which. 

Ren's grip tightens on his wrists. "I didn’t hear you.”

"S-six." The word tastes bitter in his mouth, and there is the taste of blood too, coppery across his tongue and his lower lip where he bit into it to silence himself.

"Good." Ren’s free hand turns to stroking, rubbing circles over his sore bottom in a deceptively gentle caress. Relief floods Hux’s body, instant, overpowering, and he relaxes into the touch without thinking, pushing back against that large hand in a silent plea, _yes, please, there, it feels so good_. Ren’s touch is so tender yet sure, almost soothing, and Hux’s lips part on a sigh… then a loud yelp bursts from his throat when Ren pinches his arse, hard, with a little twist at the end as his fingers slide off. _It hurts_ , the pain sharp enough to make his eyes water. He is still gasping through it when Ren administers another ruthless smack, slapping his palm down right onto the spot where his arse stings the most, punching another cry from Hux's throat. 

Of course. Of course, it was lunacy to expect anything else. _Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice... well, then you're just a kriffing idiot, Hux. Ren never plays fair, he is such a manipulative fucking—_

"Hm?"

"Seven," he gasps, banishing the thought before Ren gets the idea to pry it out of his head.

His whole lower body is throbbing now, with an intense, persistent ache, his buttocks, his cock, his balls. He writhes in Ren’s grasp, pushing up on his toes and wiggling his arse, trying anything to assuage the pain, to ease the pressure on his cock trapped underneath his stomach. The retribution is swift. It comes in the form of three hard blows that raise a steady burn across his entire bottom. On his left buttock: "Seven." Then on the right: "Eight." Finally on the sensitive spot where his left cheek meets his thigh, and Hux counts it off, breathless now, his voice slurring: "Nine."

“Last one,” Ren says. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it count.”

And he does: finishes Hux off with an open-handed, hard smack on the center of his arse, right above his clenching hole, and a single hot tear slips down Hux's cheek as he whispers: "Ten."

Ren releases his wrists. Blood rushes back to Hux’s arms and he sags against the table, his muscles going limp. Gradually, he becomes aware of a dampness underneath his stomach, around his pubes. His belly is slick with sweat and precome, his skin sticking uncomfortably to the glossy surface. His cock has leaked all over the boardroom table. 

He tries to move. Can't. The thought of getting up, righting his clothes and walking out the door with every eye following him as he makes an undignified exit is too much to bear. He stirs, blinking his stinging eyes, but Ren is already moving behind him again, pushing him back down and nudging his legs apart with his knee. His broad hands glide down Hux’s back, stroking down his spine before coming to rest on his naked buttocks, and heat rises in Hux’s face as he imagines Ren inspecting his blushing arse. "Well done, General," Ren says, and this time, his voice holds a note of real awe. "Gorgeous." 

Despite himself, Hux’s heart skips a beat. Praise - _public_ praise - from Ren has been a rarity lately. Trust Ren to commend him in front of the entire Council for... _this_ , while openly dismissing all of Hux’s tactical suggestions - and kriff, they are always informed and good suggestions. He should be furious, and he is, but the words still send heat sizzling down his spine, a surge of warmth through his stomach. Ren is still caressing him, his buttocks, his thighs, rubbing his palm over the hot, spanked skin in firm movements, massaging the pain away as Hux lies there trembling. He still can't seem to make himself move, even though he wants nothing more than to curl up and cover his flushed face, his throbbing arse, his erect cock. His body is so keyed up that every sensation is amplified tenfold, his nerve endings bare and sensitive. 

A thick finger trails down his cleft, and Hux’s whole body jerks when the pad of it presses against his furl, the sensation like an electric current passing through him. His hole clenches, then flares under the touch, fluttering against Ren’s fingertip. Wanting to be filled.

"Greedy," Ren admonishes softly. He draws his hand back and slips it beneath Hux's stomach, closing his fingers around his cock. "Oh. General. You must have enjoyed your punishment."

Hux bucks against his hand with a strained whimper, and Ren _squeezes_. "Well? Did you?"

"Yes, sir," he manages, voice cracking on the last word. He feels himself blush even deeper. He should deny it, but—

Ren tugs on his cock before letting his fingers slide off. "And _now_ you are telling the truth. I expect the same in the future."

 _This is it_. Any moment now, Ren will command him to stand up and walk away, past Pryde and Engell and all the other insufferable sods. At least they are all going to avoid him after this. _Small victories_. In a daze, he tries to push up on his hands— 

\--- and flops right back, letting out a yelp as Ren's big thumbs dig into his tender buttocks, pulling them apart. There is the sharp sound of spitting, and in the next second something warm and slick dribbles between the two globes of Hux’s arse.

“Oh, stars,” Parnadee says shakily.

Hux feels like his whole body is on fire, burning up with shame and arousal. The room lurches again, the shocked faces around him blurring - he must be getting lightheaded. He doesn't want to - _mustn't_ \- think about what's happening, about this depraved display, but his brain can't stop supplying the images: him, sprawled on the table in a state of complete disarray, and Ren standing behind him, kneading the pinkened flesh of his arse, entirely unconcerned by the staring eyes. And now, Hux realizes with a sudden sinking feeling, he is on his knees and he's going to, _fuck_ , he's going to—

Hux shoves his fist into his mouth and bites down on his knuckles, hard, as a warm, wet tongue starts to delve along his cleft. Ren circles his hole with the tip of his tongue and Hux feels it pucker under the attention, clenching with tiny pulses as the tip of Ren’s tongue probes inquisitively against his furl. He chokes, trying to swallow back the cry threatening to escape, the only thing that would give him away: Ren's name.

It’s not for them to hear. 

Even getting fucked in front of everyone, laid out on the boardroom table with his jodhpurs around his ankles, would be less humiliating. At least that would allow the entire high command to witness just how much the Supreme Leader enjoys plowing their disgraced Starkiller's arse. They all think Ren has become so focused, so driven. _A strategist_. The true heir to the Order, the Resistance's demise and the Sith master plan the only thing on his mind. _As if_. Hux could show them the real Kylo Ren, the one they all seem to have forgotten about. Oh, they should see him when he is sweat-slick and horny, hear the sounds of him grunting in pleasure as he bucks wildly into Hux like an animal, consumed by the need to fuck. Ren can hide behind the pretense of authority, conceal his face with a mask, but he has never been able to control his desires. Especially not his carnal ones. 

But this. Showing off Hux in the middle of a council meeting is a calculated move that he did not expect Ren to pull. It's a warning: _Stay down. Know your place._

 _Or else I will show them. How hard this gets you. How much you love this while pretending you don't._

Hux can't even protest right now, much less pretend. Can only gasp and whimper, his knees going weak as Ren starts to lick him, from his taint all the way up to his hole, dragging the flat of his tongue over his opening again and again.

It's so incredibly _good_. Tears well up anew, this time from overwhelming pleasure instead of pain, the sensations almost too much in their intensity. The skin of his spanked arse is still so tender, but Ren's mouth is so hot and slick, and he is kissing Hux all over, on his buttocks, his taint, pausing to nuzzle the soft skin with shocking gentleness before he starts to lap at his hole again.

Hux clamps his hand over his mouth to suppress another moan. His cock is painfully hard between his spread legs, his balls throbbing with a relentless ache. His body has betrayed him, despite his embarrassment - or perhaps because of it.

In the gleaming surface of the table he catches a glimpse of his own flushed reflection, the parted lips, the glazed eyes, and he almost recoils at the sight.

 _This is you now_. The youngest, brightest General of the First Order. Going down in history as the Supreme Leader's fucktoy. What a kriffing _illustrious_ title. Let's see who else could put that on their resume. His throat tightens painfully. Something is threatening to break out of it; a sob or mad laughter, he isn’t sure which. He swallows it back, but just barely, and his whole body trembles with the effort. 

A large hand covers his own. Ren's. He places his hand on Hux's trembling one, interlocking their fingers on top of the table.

Squeezes. 

It's like being hit with a blaster bolt. For a second, Hux even forgets about the warm tongue still lapping at his hole. He is aware of nothing but their clasped hands, the touch burning his skin even through his glove. 

Then his mind goes completely blank. 

Ren is in his head. 

Hux can _feel_ him, the sensation almost physical, like a dark, viscous liquid seeping into his thoughts, coalescing into words:

 _They won’t remember_.

He cries out, incoherent, straining against the persistent press of Ren's power in his mind, but Ren is not prying. Just projecting. The words ripple through his head again, impatient now, urging him to stop struggling and _listen_.

 _Hux. They won’t_ remember. 

The first broken moan that escapes him feels like something is being freed inside his chest. He hadn't even realized how much he's been holding back. He sucks air in like he is drowning, in desperate, choppy gasps. The tendrils of the Force are still curled around his mind, alarmingly close, but there is not a single coherent thought left in Hux's brain, nothing Ren could sense, except for a swirling mass of frantic need. _Lick it, lick it, it feels so good, I want—_

Ren makes a low, hungry sound in the back of his throat. _Yes_. He grabs Hux’s cheeks with both hands and spreads them apart, holds him open as he spears his tongue into him, pushing it deep, all the way through his furl. Electric pleasure jolts up Hux's spine and he arches into it and _moans_ , loudly, with abandon, the sound reverberating off the boardroom walls. Ren clamps his lips around his opening and sucks lightly while his tongue delves in again and again. Hux pushes back - _want want want_ \- and Ren grips his arse tight, shoves his eager face between his cheeks with a soft groan that makes Hux shiver. He is feasting like a man dying of hunger, fucking Hux with his tongue, gently, relentlessly, and all Hux can do is lie there and take it. 

The noises they are both making now are obscenely loud in the silence of the boardroom, Hux's desperate whimpers mingling with the filthy sounds of Ren's slurping and suckling. Hux feels like he is being devoured, consumed entirely, dying of pleasure by Ren's determination. 

It's all the more startling when Ren withdraws without warning. Hux gasps at the sudden loss, but the agonizing emptiness only lasts a second, and then Ren is replacing his tongue with a long, spit-slick finger, sinking it into Hux's pulsing hole, as deep as it goes.

A shout tears from Hux’s throat, with a fervency that shocks even himself. He squirms at the intense, biting burn, rolling his hips and clenching around the digit, the longing to be filled now rising to a raging need. Another finger joins the first, and Hux shudders in ecstasy.

 _They won’t remember. They won’t._

And what if they did, Hux thinks, seized by a sudden, delirious madness. _Fuck them all_. It's not like they have regarded him highly before. He has already lost all respect, all power. Ren is well aware of that. This was his chance to destroy the last remaining shred of Hux's reputation, to crush Hux once and for all. But Ren is made of hunger and greed, and he will never be able to let go of his favorite toy, the most prized artifact in his horrible collection.

_Why can't you just discard me, so I can finally hate you in peace?_

Kylo Ren will lose and Hux will be there to see him fall, even though there's no joy left in it for him anymore. 

Soon it will all be over.

All ties cut. 

It's that thought that undoes him, that makes him arch his back and push back against Ren's hand. It all sweeps over him all at once, the frustration, the shame, the anger at Ren for toying with him and the overwhelming, orgasmic pleasure as Ren twists his fingers, stroking his sweet spot in an agonizingly perfect rhythm.

Fingers still pressed deep, Ren stands and bears down onto him, the rough gaberwool of his tunic rasping against the skin of Hux's lower back, and he is hard too, _fuck_ , so _hard_. The massive bulge of his cock presses into the back of Hux's thigh as he bends over him, and Hux can’t help but moan for the feel of it.

Ren groans into his hair, and his hips stutter for a moment, but he doesn’t pursue his own pleasure further, slips his free hand beneath Hux's stomach instead, wrapping it around his cock. Fuck, Hux is so close, he won’t be able to hold back, not like this. Already he is quivering, and Ren is barely touching him. His cock twitches in the firm grip of his hand, leaking more precome. "That's it, that's it," Ren whispers, rubs the underside of his cockhead as he keeps pumping his thick fingers in and out of Hux's hole, faster and faster, and _oh stars_ , he is going to— right here, in front of everyone—-

“Come for me,” Ren growls, like a man possessed, hot mouth brushing across the nape of Hux's neck. And the tears do spill now, hot, unstoppable, sliding down his cheeks and dripping onto his knuckles pressed against his teeth, their salt mixing with the taste of leather in his panting mouth as Ren milks his orgasm from him mercilessly. His belly tightens, and then he is shuddering and coming and coming, with long, drawn-out moans, all over Ren's hand and the boardroom table, Ren’s hot breath in his ear: “So good, so good for me, you are mine, only mine, Hux—“

The first thing he feels when he comes back to himself, after he has blinked away the black spots dancing in front of his vision, is the cool of the plasteel against his burning cheek. Slowly, the rest of the sensations return: the sticky wetness underneath his belly, the quiver in his thighs. Ren's ragged breathing on the back of his neck, then the slick slide of his fingers as he drags them from Hux's still-twitching hole.

In a stupor, he pushes up on his hands and scrambles upright. This time, Ren lets him, only bracing him a little when Hux's legs almost give out under him. Head bowed, he stands at the head of the table. His mind is numb. 

_Soon, it will all be over_.

The faces of his fellow Generals mingle in one white mist, swimming in and out of focus before his eyes; the look of repulsion on Pryde's face, the deep blush on his aide's. Ren curls a hand around the back of his neck and Hux obeys, as if on autopilot, instinctively knowing what's required of him. A gentle push, and he is lowering his head dutifully to lick up the splattered drops of his own come. He barely even registers the taste. Ren keeps his hand on the back of his neck, firm, almost reassuring, until Hux has finished lapping up every last drop. 

Then Ren is pulling him up, turning him around and backing him against the table. He pushes Hux up onto it, pressing his bulk between his thighs. Hux’s naked arse squeaks on the plasteel and suddenly all he can think about is the _mess_ on the boardroom table: the sweat and the streaks of come and the wet trails left by his tongue. His arse-print, which no doubt will be visible on the shiny surface once Ren allows him to stand. Ren must be thinking about it too, because he runs his hands over the curve of Hux's buttocks posessively. In a few hours, after the cleaning droids have made their scheduled round, everything will be pristine once again, but Ren will know, and Hux will too. He will see himself writhing on the table every time he enters the boardroom, think about coming on Ren’s fingers while he sits in a meeting, counting down the hours left until Ren's ultimate demise.

 _It won't be long now_.

Ren's gaze drops to his lips, as it does sometimes when he thinks Hux won’t notice. He is looking like he wants to lick Hux's taste off his mouth, and _that_ cannot happen. Not anymore. His mind would unravel the moment their lips touched, and Ren would see everything in his head, every stupidly sentimental memory Hux still holds dear and every treasonous thought. He turns his face away with a moan and Ren ducks his head, latching his mouth onto his neck instead.

He doesn't know what’s happening behind him and can't bring himself to care. Nobody has moved, or said a word. Ren wraps an arm around his waist, pulling Hux closer as he extends his other hand towards the Council, and then his breathing goes quiet against Hux's neck, evening out in deep concentration. 

“Leave," Ren commands. "You will have no recollection of this meeting."

Hux closes his eyes. _The plan is in motion. There is no turning back_. Behind him, there is the sound of nine chairs being pushed back simultaneously, people standing up in unison. The sharp hiss of the durasteel door. The thud of boots marching across the floor, disturbingly in sync, then slowly fading, fading to nothingness, until Ren's soft breathing in his ear is the only sound.

 _There is no turning back_.

**Author's Note:**

> There is a heavy power imbalance between Kylo and Hux in this fic, same as in canon. While they have an established consensual sexual relationship, here Kylo uses his position as SL to coerce Hux into participating in erotic humiliation and public sex in front of the Supreme Council. Hux is reluctant at first, even though he ends up enjoying it. There are also undertones of un-negotiated D/s, emotional manipulation and obsessive behaviour.
> 
> \----
> 
> Come find me on [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/v1oletdelights) <3


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